A study in black
by ThatFlyingRabbit
Summary: "The sound of our footsteps must have startled him from his quiet stupor, for his head snapped up with cat-like reflexes. And what a sight he was.I didn't know it yet, but he, Ciel Phantomhive, was soon to be my new obsession." Sherlock Holmes, Kuro style
1. Mr Ciel Phantomhive

_Heyya, yeah, that's right, ThatFlyingRabbit here. ^^V _

_This story is basically Kuroshitsuji's/ Black butler's version of Sherlock Holmes._

_Ciel is Sherlock, and Sebastian is Watson._

_Although this would seem to be the wrong way round, I decided that since Ciel is the master, he should be the detective._

_However, that being said, Sebastian will be more 'hands on' than most Watson's so don't worry, he isn't going to be a stuck up, lazy ass._

_I apologise if some of the characters are OOC, but in the world of Sherlock Holmes, it's hard to merge characters together. _

_I apologise n advance for any mistakes I make, because I'm bound to make more than one. _

_So now, without further ado, ON TO THE STORY._

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In the year 1878 I took my degree of Doctor of Medicine of the University of London, and proceeded to Netley to go through the course prescribed for surgeons in the army.

Having completed my studies there, I was duly attached to the fifth Northumberland Fusiliers as Assistant Surgeon.

The regiment was stationed in India at the time, and before I could join it, the second Afghan war had broken out.

On landing at Bombay, I learned that my corps had advanced through the passes, and was already deep in the enemy's country.

I followed, however, with many other officers that were in the same situation as myself, and succeeded in reaching Kandahar in safety, where I found my regiment, and at once entered upon my new duty's.

The campaign brought honours and promotion to many, but for me it had nothing but misfortune and disaster.

I was removed from my brigade and attached to the Berkshires, with whom I served at the fatal battle of Maiwand.

There I was struck on the shoulder by a jezail bullet, which shattered the bone and grazed the subclavian artery.

I should have fallen into the hands of the murderous Ghazis had it not been for the devotion and courage shown by Canterbury, my orderly, who through me across a pack-horse, and succeeded in bringing me safely to the British lines.

Worn with pain, and weak from the prolonged hardships which I had undergone, I was removed, with a great train of wounded sufferers, to the base hospital at Peshawar.

Here I rallied, and had already improved so far as to be able to walk about the ward, even to bask a little upon the veranda, when I was struck down by enteric fever, that curse of our Indian possessions.

For months my life was despaired of, and when at last I came to myself and became convalescent, I was so weak and emaciated medical board determined that not a day should me lost in sending me back to England.

I was dispatched, accordingly, in the troopship 'Orontes', and landed a month later on Portsmouth jetty, with my heath irretrievably ruined, but with permission from a paternal government to spent the next nine months in attempting to improve it.

I had neither kin nor kith in England, and was therefore free as air, or as free as an income of eleven shillings and sixpence a day will permit a man to be.

Under such circumstances, I naturally gravitated to London, that great cesspool into which all the loungers and idlers of the empire are irresistibly drained.

There I stayed for some time at a private hotel in the strand, leading a comfortless, meaningless existence, and spending such money as I had, considerably more freely than I ought..

So alarming did the state of my finances become, that I soon realized that I must either leave to metropolis and rusticate somewhere in the country, or that I must make a complete alteration in my style of living.

Choosing the latter alternative, I began by making up my mind to leave the hotel, and to take up my quarters in some less pretentious and less expensive domicile.

On the very day I had come to this conclusion, I was standing at the Criterion Bar, when someone taped me on the shoulder, and turning round I recognized young Ronald Knox, who had been a dresser under me at Barts.

The sight of a friendly face in the great wilderness of London is a pleasant thing indeed to a lonely man.

In old days Ronald had never been a particular crony of mine, but now I hailed him with enthusiasm, and he, in his turn, appeared to be delighted to see me.

In the exuberance of my joy, I asked him to lunch with me at the Holborn, and we started off together in a hansom.

"Whatever have you been doing with yourself Michealis?" he undisguised wonder, as we rattled through the crowed London streets.

"You're as thin as a lath and as pale as bone china." I gave him a short sketch of my adventures, and hardly concluded it by the time we reached our destination.

"Poor devil!" he said, commiserating, after he had listened to my misfortunes.

"What are you up to now?"

"Looking for lodgings." I answered. "Trying to solve the problem as to whether it is possible to get comfortable rooms at a reasonable price."

"That's a strange thing," remarked my companion; "you are the second man today that has used that expression."

"And who was the first?" My curiosity was piqued.

"A fellow who is working at the chemical laboratory up at the hospital. He was bemoaning himself this morning because he could not get someone to go halves with him in some nice rooms which he had found, and which were too much for his purse."

"Ah," I replied "if he really wants someone to share the rooms and the expense, I am the very man for him. I should prefer having a partner to being alone."

Ronald looked rather strangely at me over his wine glass.

"You don't know Ciel Phantomhive yet," His face was almost comical in its sincerity, I had trouble hiding the laughter that was threatening to burst out at any given moment.

"perhaps you would not care for him as a constant companion."

"Why, what is there against him?"

"Oh, I didn't say there was anything against him. He's quite sultry most of the time, an enthusiast in some branches of science, but queer in some of his ideas."

"A medical student I suppose?" Personally, I saw nothing wrong with this Ciel Phantomhive, from what Ronald had said so far.

"Nope, I have no idea what he intends to go in for. I believe he is well up in anatomy, and he is a first-class chemist, but, as far as I know, he has never taken out any systematic medical classes. His studies are very desultory and eccentric, but he has amassed a lot of out-of-the way knowledge which would astonish his professors."

"Did you never ask him what he was going in for?" I asked.

"No, he's not a man that is easy to draw out, but he can be commutative enough when the fancy seizes him." In my honest opinion, he seemed far to stuck up for his own good, pompous beyond belief, and he truly fascinated me.

"I should like to meet him." Was my honest reply, "If I am to lodge with anyone, I would prefer a man of studious and quiet habits. I am not yet strong enough to stand much noise and excitement. I had enough of both in Afghanistan to last me for the remainder of my natural existence. How could I meet this friend of yours?"

"He is sure to be at the laboratory." Returned my companion, " He either avoids the place for weeks, or else works there from morning till night. If you like, we can drive round together after luncheon."

"Certainly." Was my only reply, then the conversation drifted away into other channels.

As we made our way to the hospital after, Ronald gave me a few more particulars about the gentleman whom I proposed to take as a fellow lodger.

"You mustn't blame me if you don't get on with him, I know nothing more of him than I have learned from meeting him occasionally in the laboratory. You proposed this arrangement, so don't hold me responsible if you end up hating the guy"

"If we don't get on it will be easy to Part Company, "I answered "It seems to me Ronald," I added, looking hard at my companion, "That you have some reason for washing your hands of the matter. Is this man temperament that bad? Don't be mealy-mouthed about it."

"It's not easy to express the inexpressible," Laughter bubbled from his mouth, again, one of his more comical attributes. "Phantomhive is a little to detached for my tastes, he's almost cold-blooded. I could imagine his giving a friend a little slip of poison, not out of malevolence; you understand, but merely to test the theory. He appears to have a passion for definite answers and exact knowledge."

"Yes, and quite right too."

"Yeah, but it may be pushed to excess. When it comes to beating the subjects in the dissecting rooms with a stick, it's certainly taking a rather bizarre shape."

"Beating the subjects?" This man was becoming more and more interesting with each passing moment. I felt the need to open up his brain, see how he ticks.

It was a burning need to get inside this 'Ciels' mind and see what bizarre thoughts are forming there.

"Yes, to verify how far bruises may be produced after death, I saw him at it the other day!" Ronald looked like he had just spread the best gossip in London. How quaint.

"And yet you say he is not a medical student?"

"No. Heavens knows what the studies of his subjects are. But here we are, and you must form your own impressions of him." Sure enough, we had reached the laboratory.

As he spoke, we passed through a small side-door, which opened into a wing of the great hospital. It was familiar ground to me.

I needed and I needed no guiding as we ascended the bleak stone staircase and made our way along the corridor with its vista of whitewashed walls and dun-coloured doors.

Near the further end a low arched passage branched away from it and led to the chemical laboratory.

This was a lofty chamber, lined and littered with countless bottles. Broad, low tables were scattered about, which bristled with retorts, test tubes, and Bunsen lamps with blue, flickering flames.

There was only one student in the room, who was bending over a distant table absorbed in his work. His frame was slight and small, his hair dark in the candle-light.

Truth be told, he looked no older than 13, which couldn't be right at all. His lips were moving, yet no sound was escaping, his silent mutterings going almost unnoticed by even himself.

The sound of our footsteps must have startled him from his quiet stupor, for his head snapped up with cat-like reflexes.

And what a sight he was.

I didn't know it yet, but he, Ciel Phantomhive, was soon to be my new obsession.

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_Well, that's the first chapter over with._

_So guys, what did you think? Tell me if you have any ideas on what to do next._

_Also, as any fellow writers will agree, reviews make the world go round, so PLEASE just give a quick opinion. _

_Thank you, and goodbye. ^_^ _


	2. The science of deduction

_Haha. Second chapter of 'A study in black'. _

_I Just want to say before we start, I'm not one of those horrible authors who stop writing just because I get no reviews, but PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE review, I feel as if I'm not making an impression on you guys T^T_

_Oh, woe is meeeee T^T _

_Anyways, on to the story at hand ^^V peace out _

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"**I didn't know it yet, but he, ciel Phantomhive, was soon to be my new obsession." **

The small figure at the table blinked at us, once, twice, three times before raising his eyebrows at Ronald. To my disappointment, he seemed not to acknowledge me in the slightest.

My hopes of a good first impression were dashed in one, fellow swoop.

"Hello, Ronald Knox. Hello Ronald's insignificant friend." Oh. So that's what he thought of me. Seeing his face for the first time, he truly looked no older than maybe 14, 15 at the most.

More than slightly peeved, I stalked my way over to his little work table, fully intending to give him a piece of my mind.

"Well, so awfully sorry for being insignificant, but you can't be much older than 14, so I would recommend not speaking to your elders in such a un-" My rant was cut short by his hand in my face. Sapphire eye's flicked back up from his work to meet mine.

All of a sudden, I realized why my friend was scared of him.

His eye's held fire that no boy his age should posess. To anyone else, that piercing stare would scare then witless.

But not me, I've seen horrors far worse than this boys eyes.

If he thought he could win against me, he was sorely mistaken.

"Tch. You are highly uninformed. Let me have to pleasure of enlightening you on a few key facts. 1: I'm 16. 2: I can speak to you in any fashion I want. 3: I have roughly twice the mental capacity of someone of your standing. 4: I am very busy. 5: You interrupted me, and when I'm interrupted, I tend not to treat people kindly. And lastly, I've found it."

My mouth opened and closed, much like that of a goldfish, and I found myself unable to form any sort of coherent sentence. This boy, he had such a nerve!

When I regained my senses, he was already flitting around his table, like some kind of humming bird. Ronald has somehow got from the doorway to Ciel without me finding out, and was presently peering over his shoulder.

"So, Ciel. What is this infamous 'it' that you've discovered?" At this remark, Ciel flipped around, with such a look of disgust on his face, it would no doubt make an infant cry. He stared at poor Ronald as if he just asked what colour the sky was.

"I have found IT. A re-agent which is precipitated by haemoglobin, and by nothing else!" The way announced it was as if it was brain numbingly obvious it hurt.

He had discovered a gold mine, yet delight was not an emotion present on his face.

Deciding not to be left out, I Strode meaningfully up to the pair of them. Clearing my throat, I began.

"Dr. Michealis, Mr Ciel Phantomhive. I would say it's a pleasure to meet you but-" I was interrupted yet again, by this poor excuse for a teenager.

"How are you?" he said cordially, gripping my hand with a strength I should hardly have given him credit for. "You have been in Afghanistan, I perceive."

"How on earth do you know that?" A fleeting look of astonishment crossed my features, but I quickly reined it in, replacing it with my famous smirk.

Ciel had stopped his work completely now, and stood up straight for the first time since I had met him.

A smirk to rival my own rested on his face as he moved round the table to stand directly in front of me. His eyes flicked over my for a second, as if analysing something, before they returned to my face.

"I also know that you were shot at during your time in Afghanistan. You weren't a soldier though, most likely a doctor. I know that your health is anything but at its best and the bullet was wedged in your leg. You hold a lot of pride, and won't admit defeat. You're right handed and have no pets. Your roughly 20/21 years old, and came here about the free rooms. Oh, and one last thing, you had a glass of wine before coming here."

During that monologue, he had walked closer and closer to me, until he was literally right up in my face. Or he would have been, if he was tall enough.

Despite his height, his presence was astounding. A cherubic face glared up at me with smug satisfaction.

"Right on all accounts Mr Phantomhive, how _do_ you do it?" My voice gave off an air of surprise, but looking into my eyes would reveal only mockery.

"Tch. Call me Ciel, and never mind how I deduced all that I did, the question now is about the haemoglobin. No doubt you see the significance of this discovery of mine?"

"It is interesting chemically, no doubt," I answered, " but practically-" For the third time in this conversation I was interrupted by this so called genius. If he's so clever, why can't he understand the rules of _having a conversation?_

"You moron, it is the practical medico-legal discovery for years. Don't you see that it gives us an infallible test for blood stains? Come over here now!" He seized me by the coat-sleeve in his eagerness, and drew me over to the table at which he had been working.

"Let us have some fresh blood." Ciel exclaimed, digging a long bodkin into his finger, and drawing off the resulting drop of in a chemical pipette.

"Now, I add this small quantity of blood to a litre of water. You perceive that the resulting mixture has the same appearance as pure water. The proportion of blood cannot be more than one in a million. I have no doubt, however, that we shall be able to obtain the characteristic reaction."

As he spoke, he threw into the vessel a few white crystals, and then added a drop of some transparent fluid. In an instant, the contents assumed a dull mahogany colour, and a brownish dust was precipitated to the bottom of the glass jar.

"There." And suddenly his face changed completely. Clapping his hands and dancing around like a child with a new toy was something I never saw him doing. "What do you think of that?" He suddenly found something fascinating about my face, and stared at it for a long while.

"Hey, would you look at that, it's the same colour index as your eyes. How curious." Feeling rather out of place with the close attention this eccentric boy was giving my face, I tried to alter the path of our conversation back to his experiment.

"It seems to be a very delicate test." This ploy seemed to work, as his attention was almost instantaneously switched back to the glass jar.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" The playful child was gone again, leaving no traces of a smile behind. "The old Guiacum test was very clumsy and uncertain. So is the microscopic examination for blood corpuscles. The latter is valueless if the stains are a few hours old. Now, this appears to act just as well whether the blood is old or new."

His eyes faintly glittered as he spoke, a glimmer of the child that was present a second ago.

"You are to be congratulated." I remarked, considerably surprised, yet again, by his lack of enthusiasm. Ciel then started rabbling on about several crimes that could have been sorted out much faster, had the police been using his miracle elixir.

"You seem to be a walking calendar of crime." A voice from the back of the room started us, Ronald waved awkwardly at us, and it was only then we realized we had forgotten all about him.

He continued none the less "You might start a paper along those lines. Call it the 'Police news of the past."

"Very interesting read it might be too." Retorted Ciel, sticking a small piece of plaster over the prick on his finger. I have to be careful," he continued, turning to me with a mockery of a smirk "for I dabble with poisons a great deal."

He held out his hand as he spoke. I noticed, even with it's tiny size, it was all mottled over with similar pieces of plaster. The skin of the hand was also mildly discoloured with all the dtrong acids he uses on a daily basis.

"We came here on business." Ronald cut in, sitting down on a high three legged stool, and pushing another one in my direction with his foot.

"My friend here wants to take diggings, and as you were complaining you couldn't find anyone to go halves with you, I thought that I'd better bring you both together."

Ciel seemed less than delighted at the idea of sharing rooms with me. He begrudgingly turned to me, as if to say something, and then thought better of it. This went one for roughly a minuite, before his open mouth made any noise.

"I have my eye on a suite in baker street," he said, "which would suit me down to the ground. You don't mind the smell of tobacco, I hope"

I snorted at the idea. Smoking had never appealed to me. It seemed such a waste to just smoke your life away. Of course, now my life was already depleted as it was so I shrugged and said,

"I'll put up with it, provided you don't do it in the same room as me."

"That's good enough. I generally have chemicals about, and occasionally do experiments. Would that annoy you?" For all the world, it seemed like he was trying to put me off sharing rooms with him, and there I was thinking he was desperate.

None the less, I was not to be put down. This teen thought he could take me? So be it. I decided there and then to do anything I could to get these rooms with him.

"By no means." The smirk adorning my face at that point made it clear to him that I knew what he was doing. The look in his eyes was almost priceless, in my opinion. It was propably the first time he had met someone who could act just like him.

"Let me see, what are my other shortcomings? I get in the dumps at times, and don't open my eyes or mouth for days on end. You must immediately assume I am sulking when I do that. Because the chances are I am. I'm nothing if not extremely childish, so don't expect anything else from me."

It was now clear to me that he was purposely trying to make me leave. Ronald on the other hand, seemed completely oblivious to anything and everything around him.

"Don't worry, you came across as the childish time the moment I saw you, I expect nothing less." This remark left a pout on his face. Unfortunately, if I was to describe it, cute would defiantly be at the top of my list, but cocky would come close behind.

"So, when shall we see the rooms?"

"Call for me here at noon tomorrow, and we'll go together and settle everything." Ciel frowned, clearly not happy with his own idea.

"All right, exactly noon tomorrow." I extended my hand to him, waiting for him to grasp it. All I got for my efforts was a raised eyebrow and a disapproving look. My hand pulled away just as fast as it had come down, and me and Ronald left him among the chemicals.

Once outside the hospital, me and my friend went our separate ways. On the way back to the hotel, all that was on my mind was that Ciel Phantomhive.

Surely, he would be a fascinating companion.

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_Hehe, chapter two finished ^_^ _

_I know these first chapter have just really been an intro, but the story will elaborate soon I promise!_

_Remember, R'n'R Please, review make to world go round ^^V_

_Peace out _


	3. knowledge of literature

_Hello, yet again. By now I don't need an introduction, but, just in case you've forgotten, my name is ThatFlyingRabbit :D _

_If you've read this far, I want the THANK YOU for taking the time out of your life to read my fan fictions _

_And, if you want to thank me back, please leave a review for me, because even if It's just a word, I will love you dearly ^_^_

_But enough of me, time for some story :D_

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"**On the way back to the hotel, all that was on my mind was that Ciel Phantomhive.**

**Surely, he would be a fascinating companion."**

We met the next day as he had arranged, and inspected the rooms at No. 221B, Baker Street, of which he had spoken about at our meeting.

They consisted of a couple of comfortable bed-rooms and a single, large airy sitting room, cheerfully furnished, and illuminated by two broad windows.

So desirable in every way were the apartments, and so moderate seemed the terms when divided between us, that the bargain was concluded upon the spot, and we at once entered into possession.

That very evening I moved my things round from the hotel, and on the following morning Ciel Phantomhive followed me with several boxes and portmanteaus.

For a day or two we were busily employed in unpacking and laying out our property to the best of our advantage.

That done, we gradually settled down and began to accommodate ourselves to our new surroundings. Ciel was defiantly not a difficult boy to live with. He was quiet in his ways, and his habits were regular.

It was rare for him to be up after ten at night, and he invariably breakfasted and gone out before I rose in the mornings.

Sometimes he spent his days at the chemical laboratory. Sometimes in the dissecting rooms, and occasionally in long walks. This appeared to take him into the lowest portions of the city.

Nothing could exceed him when the working fit was upon him; but now and again a reaction would seize him. And for days he would lie upon the sofa in the sitting room, hardly talking or moving a muscle from morning until night.

On these occasions I have noticed a dreamy, vacant expression in his deep blue eyes, that I might of came to the conclusion that he was on some form of drug. I would have believed that too, had the cleanliness of his whole life not forbidden such a notion.

As the weeks went by, my interest in him my curiosity as to him and his life deepened and increased. His very person and appearance were such as to strike the attention of the most casual observer.

In height he was little over 5 feet, and so exceedingly lean that he seemed considerably shorter. His eyes were sharp and piercing, save during those intervals of torpor to which I have alluded; and his thin, hawk-like nose gave him the whole expression and air of alertness and decision. His chin, too, had a boyish prominence which portrayed a huge amount of determination.

His hands were invariably blotted with ink and stained with chemicals, yet he possessed such extraordinary delicacy of touch, as I frequently had the occasion to observe when I watched him manipulating his fragile philosophical instruments.

The reader may set me down as a hopeless busy body, when I admit how much this boy stimulated my curiosity, and how often I endeavoured to break through the reticence which he showed on all that concerned himself.

Before pronouncing judgement, however, be it remembered, how objectless was my life, and how little there was to engage my attention.

My health forbade me from venturing out unless the weather was exceptionally genial, and I had no friends who would call upon me and break the monotony of my daily existence.

Under these circumstances, I eagerly engaged the little mystery which hung around my new companion, and spent much of my time in endeavouring to unravel it.

He was not studying medicine. He had himself, in reply to a question, confirmed Ronald's opinion upon that point.

Neither did he appear to have pursued any core of reading which might have fit him for a degree in science or any other recognized portal which would have given him an entrance into the learned world.

Yet his zeal for certain subjects was remarkable, and within eccentric limits his knowledge was so extraordinary and nothing less than perfect that his studies astounded me. Surely no man, or boy, would work so hard or attain such precise information unless he had some definite end in view.

Desultory readers are seldom remarkable for the exactness of their learning. No man burdens his mind with small matters unless he has some very good reason for doing so.

His ignorance was as remarkable as his knowledge. Of contemporary literature, philosophy and politics he appeared to know next to nothing. Upon my quoting Thomas Carlyle, he inquired in the naivest way who he might be and what he had done.

My surprise reached a climax, however, when I found incidentally that he was ignorant of the Copernican Theory and of the composition of the solar system.

That any human being in this 19th century would not be aware the earth travelled round the sun appeared to be to me such an extraordinary fact that I could hardly realize it.

"You appear to be astonished." Ciel remarked, frowning at my expression of surprise. "Now that I do know it I shall do my best to forget."

If I wasn't as controlled as I was, my mouth would be at the floor and my eyes would be popping out of my head at extraordinary lengths. This boy! He was almost infuriating.

"To forget it!"

"But of course," he explained," I consider that a man's brain originally is like a little empty attic, and you have to stock it with such furniture as you choose. A fool takes in all the lumbar of every sort that he comes across, so that the knowledge that might be useful to him gets crowded out, or at best jumbled up with a lot of other things so he has difficulty laying his hands upon it. Now, I, on the other hand, am very careful as to what I let into my brain-attic. I have nothing but the tools that will help me in doing my work, and these tools are, naturally, in perfect order. "

A smirk graced my lips. Ciel was so very interesting. What with his eccentric logic and constant pouts, he made an interesting study. Sometime soon, I would have to start testing his limits.

I enumerated in my own mind all the various points upon which he had shown me he was exceptionally well informed. I even took a pencil and jotted them down.

I could help but smirk at the document when it was finished. It ran this way:

CIEL PHANTOMHIVE: his limits.

Knowledge of literature- Nil

Philosophy- Nil

Astronomy- Nil

Politics- Feeble

Botany- Variable. Well up in belladonna and other such poisons. No knowledge of gardening

Geology- Practical yet limited. Knowledge ends at differentiating soils

Chemistry- Profound

Anatomy- Accurate

Sensational literature- Immense. Has a vast out-look on horror stories

Plays the violin well

Expert fencer, swordsman and chess enthusiast

British Law- Good, practical knowledge

When I had got so far in my list, I threw it into the fire in despair. If only I could find what the boy is driving at by reconciling all these accomplishments, and discover a calling which needs them all.

I may as well give up the attempt at once. I see that I have given a mention to his powers upon the violin. These were very remarkable, but just as eccentric as all his other accomplishments.

That he could play pieces, and difficult pieces, I knew well, because at my request he had played me some of Mendelssohn's Lieder, and other favourites. When left to himself, however, he would seldom produce any music or attempt any recognized air. Leaning back in his armchair for an evening, he would close his eyes and scrape carelessly at the fiddle which was thrown across his knee.

Sometimes the chords were sonorous and melancholy. Occasionally they were fantastic and cheerful. Clearly they reflected the thoughts which possessed him, but whether the music aided those thoughts, or whether the playing was simply a result of a whim or fancy was more than I could determine.

I might have rebelled against these exasperating solos had it not been that he usually terminated them by playing in quick succession a whole series of my favourite airs as a slight compensation for the trail upon my patience.

During the first week or so we had no callers, and I had begun to think that Ciel was as friendless a man as I myself was.

Presently, however, I found that he had many acquaintances, and those in the most different classes of society.

There was one tall shallow straight faced, dark eyes fellow who came three or four times in a single week. I later found out his name was of the lines of 'William. T. Spears'.

One morning a young girl called, fashionably dressed, and stayed for half an hour or more. The same afternoon brought a grey haired, seedy looking visitor, looking like a Jew pedlar, who appeared to me to be constantly followed by a slip-shod elderly woman.

Ciel used to beg for the use of the sitting room. He always apologised, almost begrudgingly, to me for putting up with this inconvenience.

"I have to use this room as a place of business; these people are merely my clients." Again, I had an opportunity of asking him a point black question, and again my delicacy prevented me from forcing another man to confide in me.

I imagined at the time that he had some strong reason for not alluding to it, but he soon dispelled the idea by coming round to the subject of his own accord.

It was upon the 4th of March, as I have good reason to remember, and I found Ciel Phantomhive had not yet finished his breakfast.

The Landlady had become so accustomed to by late habits that my place had not been laid nor my coffee prepared.

With unreasonable petulance of mankind I rang the bell and gave a curt intimation that I was ready. Then I picked up a magazine from the table and attempted to while the time away with it, while my Ciel munched silently at his toast. One of the articles had a pencil market the heading, and I naturally began to run my eyes over it.

It's somewhat ambitious title was 'The book of life", and it had attempted to show how much an observant man by an accurate and systematic examination of all that came in his way.

It struck me as being a remarkable mixture of shrewdness and absurdity. The reasoning was close and intense, but the deductions appeared to me to be far-fetched and exaggerated.

The writer claimed by a momentary expression, a twitch of a muscle or a glance of an eye, to fathom a man's innermost thoughts.

Deceit, according to him, was an unpossibibility in the case of one trained to observe and analyse. His conclusions were as infallible as so many propositions of Euclid.

So startling would his results appear to be to the uninitiated, that until they learned the processes by which he had arrived at them, might as well consider him as a necromancer.

"From a drop of water," said the writer, "a logician could infer the possibility of an Atlantic or a Niagara without having seen or heard of one or the other." And so the rabbling's went on, one after the other, all of which made next to no sense.

"What ineffable twaddle!" Were the words that left my mouth as I slammed the magazine down on the table, " I never read such rubbish in my life."

"What is it?" Ciel inquired from across the table."

"Why this article," I pointed at it with my egg spoon as I sat back down, having risen from my seat in disdain. "I see that you have been reading it since you have marked it. I don't deny that it is smartly written. But everything the writer says appears to be in riddles. To the ordinary man, most of this is unreadable without the help of a scholar. I should like to see this man clapped down in a third class carriage on the underground, and asked to name the jobs of all his fellow passengers, as he claims he could do. I would lay my life savings against him in a bet."

"You would lose your money." Came the cool reply. "As for the article, I wrote it myself."

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_First off, I just want to apologise for the whole 'o talking' thing In this chapter _

_I just needed to set the scene and stuff_

_And, obviously, here comes my plea for review's_

_PLEASE please review! It honestly means the world to meee T^T_


	4. The Royal Marine

'_Ello,' ello,' ello ^-^ if you still don't know my name by now, I will gut you ^v^ _

_Just kidding! Honest _

_Now, it has come to my attention that I have yet to write a disclaimer, so… here we go _

_Disclaimer: I don't own any of the kuroshitsuji characters (enter comedy yaoi pun here) _

_So, I'm not sure yet, but something interesting _might _happen in this chapter… maybe ^^V _

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**"You would lose your money." Came the cool reply. "As for the article, I wrote it myself." **

"You?" Damn it! I just stood there, spluttering, unable to fathom what had just happened. The questions why, how, WHAT! Where racing through my mind.

What would his reaction be? From what I had already deduced about his personality, he would either completely flip out or just block me out of his life for around a week.

He did neither.

"Yes, me." His answer was composed and proper. Unfortunately, that just added to the chill of it all.

"I have a turn both for observation and for deduction. The theories of which I have expressed there, and which appear to you to be so 'far-fetched" are really extremely practical. So practical, in fact, that I depend upon them as if they were bread and cheese."

My garnet eyes just stared, taking in all of him, his facial features, his clothes, and the detached air about him.

His dressing gown hung of his shoulders, far too big to fit his petite frame. The cool blue of the material matching perfectly with his icy eyes. His gaze was such that no sixteen year old should possess.

His face was, for all good intentions, expressionless. Like a blank canvas, open to be manipulated and changed to bow to your will.

Having said that, I would be the end of the world before Ciel Phantomhive bowed to anyone. His pride would prevent him from surrender, even if he was being ripped apart, limb from limb.

Oh, how I wished I could break that pride, swipe that smug expression from his doll like face. I haven't figured out how yet, but I will.

"And how, per chance, would you end up at that conclusion." Laughter crawled out from his mouth like spiders from a jar. Running up the walls, giving the whole room a dark, and menacing feeling to it. God forbid I did anything to anger him.

His answer came after a minute, as if he had to contemplate how he would phrase it.

"Well, I have a trade of my own; I suppose I am the only one in the world. I'm a consulting detective, if you can understand what that is. Here in London, we have lots of government detectives and lots of private ones. When these morons are at fault they come to me, and I manage to put them on the right scent. They lay all the evidence before me, and I am generally able, by the help of my knowledge of the history of crime, to set them straight. There is a strong family resemblance about misdeeds, and if you have all the details of a thousand at your fingers, it's odd if you can't unravel just as many recent ones. William. T. Spears is a well-known detective. He got himself into a fog recently over a forgery case, and that was what brought him here."

A consultant detective, eh? It did suit him. What with his eccentric experiments, unlimited knowledge of crime and cool demeanour. The only thing that didn't fit the bill was his age.

"And all the others that passed through here?"

"They are mostly sent on by private inquiry agencies. They're all the ones the government can't be bothered with; they're the ones I get landed with, because I'm not a 'proper detective'. They explain their problems, I enlighten them as to the answer, I pocket the fee's. Simple."

So, even though he works outside the law, he's still chained to the government, to the queen. He fulfils all the nasty jobs 'proper' detectives refuse to do.

Like a watch dog. Actually, that's quite a fitting nickname; the queens watch dog. Yes, he's the queen's watchdog, chained to her throne and chasing his tail for her.

Pathetic.

A burning desire to challenge his logic rose up inside me.

"So, do you mean to say, that without even leaving your room you can unravel some knot which other men can make nothing of. Although they have seen every detail themselves?"

For the millionth time, a smirk found its way to his lips.

"Quite so. I have a kind of intuition that way. Now and again a case turns up which is a little more complex. Then I have to bustle about and see things for myself."

Ciel spoke of himself as if he where the greatest boy in the world, and it nearly drove me over the edge. The queen's watchdog indeed, the nickname suddenly seems too old for him.

"You see, I have a lot of special knowledge which I apply to the problem. Those rules of deduction I wrote down in the article which aroused your scorn, are invaluable to me in practical work. Observation with me is second nature. You appeared to be surprised when I told you, on out first meeting, that you had come from Afghanistan."

Ciel's cockiness was absurd. The way he carried himself was that of a pampered prince, yet the way he talked was as if he were a learned scholar.

Ronald's warnings were flashing in my mind.

"_You might not find him agreeable as a roommate."_

"_He has a certain temper about him, most people are scared off." _

"_Do what you want, but on your head be it." _

Some of what he said rang true, and I was defiantly regretting taking out residence with him.

"You were told no doubt." Contrary to my statement, I had a fair amount of doubt in the fact that he was told. As annoying as he was, the boy had a seemingly brilliant mind.

"Nothing of the sort. I _knew you had come from Afghanistan_. From long habit the train of thoughts run so swiftly through my mind that I arrived at the conclusion without consciously working through the intermediate steps."

I had no idea how horrid I looked until I accidently angled myself into full view of a mirror resting on the extravagant mantle.

My eyebrows where practically sewn together in a hideous line of anger. My lips were drawn into a tight line, almost turning white in appearance. My eyes were lowered horrendously, forcing me to look up in an almost evil fashion,

Noticing this, I immediately softened my gaze and upturned my mouth in a smirk to rival Ciel's.

"Oh really. Do have any proof of this? As far as I know, you're just upping your ego by claiming you're as amazing as a _real detective._"

During this accusation, I had moved so I was directly in front of the teen. Due to my height, I was able to look down at Ciel in what I hoped was a reprimanding glare.

A small flinch flashed across the small Phantomhive's face, but he reined it in, trying his best to replace it with a frown. Funnily enough, he wasn't as skilled as myself when it came to hiding emotions.

Ah, so this is another thing the great consultant detective doesn't like; being close to someone. Come to think about it, I had never stopped to notice the boy was 16, and never surrounded himself with parents.

Sentimental pondering aside, I now had a weapon I could use against Ciel. His small mouth opened, as if to retort, but my further advancement forced him to retreat backwards, ironically, into a wall. The look on his face at that moment was almost priceless. Almost.

Mild fear was now a prominent emotion in his eyes, yet the rest of his body was ridged in defiance.

"You want proof, huh?" His voice wavered slightly, but that was it. It just wasn't _enough. _"My train of reasoning ran like this; here is a gentleman of a medical type, but with the air of a military man. Clearly an army doctor, then. He has just come from the tropics, for his face is lightly tanned, and that is not the natural colour of his skin, for his wrists are pale. He has undergone hardship and sickness, as his slightly dark rimmed eyes suggest. His left arm has been injured. He holds it in a stiff and unnatural manner. Where in the tropics could an English army doctor have seen so much hardship, and gotten his arm wounded? Clearly in Afghanistan."

Ciel's voice had been wavering throughout that whole monologue.

Personal space is defiantly more than just a preference. Although he wouldn't care to admit it, Ciel Phantomhive, the only consultant detective in London, had a phobia of human touch.

Whatever had caused this fear, though, was beyond me.

Staring into his eyes, I finally saw fear. And emotion other than smugness was on his face, and I didn't care. For the first time, the boy looked vulnerable and young. His breath was coming in short gasps, and I pitied him, getting so very worked up over mere closeness.

Relenting, I finally announced,

"Its simple enough as you explain it. You remind me of Edgar Allen Poe's Dupin. I had no idea such individuals existed outside such stories."

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Ciel Stroud over to his secret sweet stash; of which I had only just learned about days ago, and gathered around seven in his hand.

"No doubt you think you are complimenting me comparing me to such a character as Dupin." Oh, here we go, as per usual, I'm regretting letting him of the hook.

"Now, in my opinion, Dupin is a very inferior person. That trick of his, breaking into his friends thoughts with an apropos remark after a quarter of an hours silence is really very showy and superficial. He has some analytical genius, no doubt; but he was by no means a phenomenon as Poe appeared to imagine."

I stood, still facing the wall, a wisp of raven hair falling in front of my eyes, entirely stupefied by Ciel's ability to switch emotions so very quickly. That didn't annoy me too much, I drew the line at insulting a work of great literature.

"Have you read Gaboriau's work?" I asked. "Does Lecoq come up to your idea of a detective?"

Ciel sniffed sardonically.

"Lecoq was a miserable bungler." The anger in his voice quite a strike from the fear of moments ago. "He had only one thing to recommend him, and that was his energy. That book made me positively ill. The question was how to identify an unknown killer. I could have done it in 24 hours. Lecoq took six months or so. Moron."

I felt rather indignant at having two characters whom I admired treated in this cavalier style. I walked over to the window, and stood looking out into the busy street.

Ciel may be clever, but he is certainly very conceited.

I was fuming at his bumptious style of conversation. How was it that this stupid teenager was able to provoke such extraordinary feelings in me. None of them nice.

To help cool myself off, I changed the subject with a sharp turn.

" I wander what that idiot is looking for?" I stated, pointing to a stalwart, plainly dressed individual who was walking slowly down the other side of the street. Ciel came up behind me and gazed out, all anger from before condensed down to nothing.

He pointed his thin finger at the plain man; a blue envelope could now be seen from his hand.

"You mean that retired sergeant of Marines?"

What a show off! He knows I cannot prove that the man isn't a retired Marine! But it is typical of him, to show off.

The thought hardly passed through my mind when the man whom we were watching caught sight of the number on our door (221 b) and ran rapidly across the roadway. A loud knock resonated around the room, a deep voice bellowed and heavy steps ascended the stair.

"For Mr Ciel Phantomhive." Was all he uttered, thrusting the blue paper into the teens hand.

Here was an opportunity to bump the conceited boy down a few notches. I only had to ask the man what job he had. He would _obviously _not be a retired sergeant of Marines, and when he announced his job to be that of a messenger, Ciel's fuming expression ought to be priceless.

"May I ask, what you trade may be?"

"I'm now a commissionaire, sir." A smirk wound up on my lips. "And what were you previous to this job, if you don't mind my asking."

"A sergeant, sir, Royal Marine light infantry, sir. I shall be off now sir, good day." He clicked his heels together, raised his hand in salute, and was gone.

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_Well then, that was a pain to write please forgive me for utter OOCness on both characters. -_- _

_I'm not the best at writing in character._

_I also want to apologise for the blandness of my previous writing. I have tried to make this chapter more pleasant to read, but I'm not convinced I have succeded. _

_Review and give your thoughts constructive criticismwelcome, flames not. THANK YOU =^-^=_

_Tata for now _


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